


The Taming of the Moth

by pleasekalemenow



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: CoWorkers to Friends to Lovers, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, I wrote this instead of taking care of my actual human body lmao, Light Angst, M/M, Now I Know Better, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Slice of Life, Slow Dancing?, USED TO BE Slow-Burn, We'll see I guess, maybe an actual plot?, the T rating is for language, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasekalemenow/pseuds/pleasekalemenow
Summary: As Duck tries to cope with his seasonal depression, he realizes that he and Indrid haven't really hung out outside the context of a crisis.He decides he needs to fix that.





	1. Chapter One: The First One

**Author's Note:**

> Underlined words = Indrid is saying them at the same time!  
> Enjoy!

When Duck woke up to soft sunlight filtering through the slats in his blinds, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was even surprised by that ol’ familiar feeling he had in the pit in the middle of his chest. He roused himself reluctantly, legs going over the side of the bed, finding his house slippers, sitting there for a minute and wondering how necessary getting out of bed _really_ was. In the back of his memory, he recalled a day last year about this same time of the year that he decided it wasn’t necessary. That day fuckin’ sucked. So, getting up was absolutely necessary. He stood up, stretching so luxuriously that even his cat would be jealous. He crossed to the window, opening the blinds and wincing slightly from the sudden brightness. Once his eyes adjusted, he admired the view: people were out and about, exercising outdoors without heavy coats, and in the distance, he could see that the deciduous trees were sprouting flowers and the beginnings of leaves.

“Happy fuckin’ spring,” he mumbled to himself, a light, throaty chuckle escaping his lips before he shuffled over to the kitchen. Most folks heard “seasonal depression” and thought of wintertime. Duck didn’t understand why early spring got him so fucked up, but after all these years, he’d just learned to deal with the lame timing. He tried to focus on the good things: the trees were real pretty! More people were comin’ to the parks to enjoy the changing of seasons! It just...didn’t really help that much, if he was being honest. He started brewing a pot of coffee (he was almost out of grounds--better add that to the list of shit he needed to get when he got the energy to go to the store), got a microwavable breakfast burrito out of the freezer, and popped it in the microwave. He didn’t really feel hungry, but he knew from experience that was just his body playin’ tricks on him. He had to eat. And so did his cat--Winnie was rubbing up against his legs insistently, and so he took a can of wet food out of the top cabinet and put it in her bowl, filling the other one with water. Winnie, the ungrateful thing she was, immediately left him and went about eating without any thanks. Duck shook his head with casual amusement.

As he leaned against the counter, waiting for his obligatory breakfast, he wondered what he was even gonna do today. He wasn’t scheduled at work, and no one else had called off, so there were no way to pick up a shift. The Pine Guard had pretty much _just_ dealt with an abomination, so there wasn’t really any prep work to be done for that just yet. He could always just stay in with Winnie, maybe play some video games. He was pretty sure Overwatch had a new update due, he could always check that out. But, as he burned his hand yanking his burrito out of the microwave, he realized that the gnawing loneliness underlying his general “blah” probably wouldn’t go away unless he actually reached out to someone. The only question was: who?

Juno _did_ have a shift today, so she was out of the question. Aubrey was cool, but really, she took a bit more spoons than he currently had, and anyway she’d been really busy hanging out with Dani of late. Maybe Ned? ...No, the Cryptonomica was open. He’d probably be busy, too. Duck watched as his coffee brewed, thinking for a moment. As Winnie began rubbing up against his leg and purring, suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

“Huh,” Duck said in Winnie’s direction as he blew on his burrito, taking a bite out of it. (It tasted okay.) After he swallowed, he continued, “Don’t think I’ve ever paid Indrid a social call.” It was true--he hadn’t. They’d only ever really spoken when there were abominations present and either the Pine Guard needed his insight or Indrid needed to tell them something. That seemed...wrong, somehow. Sure, Indrid was intimidating and cool and he was probably very preoccupied with his future vision and whatnot but he should probably at least ask him to hang out, right? He was cool, and Duck would enjoy spending time with him, anyways. His coffee wasn’t done yet, so he picked up the phone and dialed Indrid. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he picked up on the first ring.

“Duck, I didn’t expect you to be calling me today.” Duck could hear the smile in Indrid’s voice, and he couldn’t help but grin as well.

“And yet, ya still managed to pick up on the first ring, huh?” He found himself twirling the phone cord around his fingers, not quite paying attention.

“This reality was...unlikely, until you started talking to your cat.”

Duck’s hand stilled as he flushed bright red. “You, uh, you--”

“Saw that? Yes, the reality became more prominent as it became clear that you were going to call me.”

“Then, do you already know what I’m gonna ask?”

“Well, there’s a chance you panic and just ask if my refrigerator is running and hang up before even finishing the joke, but it’s a very small one.”

“I wouldn’t…” Duck thought for a moment before thinking better of denying that. “Well, um, I was actually just wonderin’ if you  wanted to hang out.”

“I’d love to, Duck.”

Something about the way Indrid said his name sent his heart aflutter. “You’re not--you’re not busy, or anythin’? I’d hate to bug ya, if you’ve got--”

“Other things going on, I don’t actually. Well, probably.” A beat. “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

Shit. Duck hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“You didn’t think this far ahead, did you?” Indrid asked with a laugh.

Duck chuckled, embarrassed. “You sure you ain’t a mind reader?”

“Quite sure.” Indrid paused. “Your coffee’s done.”

Duck glanced over at the pot--it was. “Shit, it is.  Thanks .”

“No need to thank me. So, it seems like, in most scenarios, we end up at your place for whatever we end up doing. I could just come over, if you’d like?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that’d be--that’d be great, Indrid.”

“I’ll be over shortly.” Again, Indrid paused. “Don’t feel the need to tidy up, by the way.” And with a click, the line went dead.

Duck made eye contact with Winnie. “You changed the fuckin’ future, apparently. You proud of yourself?” In response, Winnie maintained eye contact for maybe another second before walking off without a sound, tail swishing pompously behind her. _Yep, she’s proud of herself._

As he broadened his gaze to the rest of the apartment, he realized why Indrid must’ve said something about tidying up. He normally ran a pretty tight ship, but at the moment...well, the place was a fuckin’ mess. The sofa wasn’t visible due to all the laundry piled on it, the floor hadn’t been swept in a good week and a half (which meant it might as well be carpeted, at the rate with which Winnie shed), and there were dishes piled everywhere. Depression’s a really shitty roommate. Indrid had said not to clean up, but the idea of a guy he didn’t really know that well see his apartment looking like such a mess was stressful as hell. But then--what if this was a future-vision thing, and something bad was gonna happen if he cleaned up?

He looked at the complete lack of sittable furniture, and decided that he was tidying a _little_ , consequences be damned.

• • •

By the time he heard his apartment’s buzzer go off, the place was looking better. It wasn’t clean, by any stretch, but it was...tolerable. He quickly left his apartment, headed down the stairs, and opened the front door. Standing there was--

“Indrid,” Duck breathed. He was taken aback by the Mothman’s appearance. Traditionally, he was what Aubrey affectionately referred to as a “greasy boy,” with his hair essentially plastered to his scalp, his clothes looking like he’s lived and slept in them for three days straight. Today, though, his hair was fluffy, and he smelled like cinnamon and clean laundry. Duck suddenly felt a little self-conscious about his own appearance--he was only wearing the Monongahela National Park t-shirt and sweatpants that he slept in. Indrid wore a few layers of jackets and a scarf, and he had a notebook of some kind tucked under his arm. Probably a sketchbook, knowing him. And his mouth was widening in a lopsided grin as Duck gave him a once-over that turned into a twice-over and _definitely_ lingered too long to be normal.

“Hello, Duck.” Indrid shuffled a bit. “Can I come in? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

Duck snapped out of his haze, noticing how Indrid was shivering in the early spring air even in what looked to be the three hoodies he was wearing. “Oh, uh--yeah, of course. C’mon in, ‘Drid.” He stepped aside, holding the door open for the slight man to walk through. “My apartment’s just  up those stairs, first door on your left. ”

“I still think I’ll let you lead the way.” He chuckled. “Did you remember your keys?”

“No, I, uh, I didn’t lock the door, I don’t think. I was just runnin’  down to let you in. ”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.”

Duck stared at Indrid for a minute before jogging up the stairs. “Ah, shit--” As he tried the handle, his fears were confirmed. The door was, in fact, locked. “Fuck. I guess I musta locked it behind myself on accident.”

“No need to worry, I think--I may be able to help. That is, if you don’t mind if I…” Duck looked over at the man behind him to see him produce a pocket knife and what looked like a bent paperclip. He laughed a little despite himself.

“Uh, yeah, sure, go ahead. Don’t worry if ya can’t get it open, though--I think I gave Leo a spare key, I can go--”

“Got it.” The door swung open, and Indrid walked in, leaving Duck staring in silence for a moment. _How did he--?_

“I’ve been around a long time. Got into some tricky situations. You know how it is.”

Duck didn’t exactly, but he was almost scared to find out. “Well, uh, thanks for lettin’ us in. Have you--”

“Eaten? No, but I’m fine. I’m not really hungry.” Indrid glanced around the apartment. Duck was about to comment on the fact that it was almost noon and that he should probably eat something, but just as he was about to speak up, Indrid spoke again. “I notice you decided to tidy up anyway, hm?”

Duck let the subject change slide, for now. He hardly knew this guy, really, after all. “I, uh, yeah. It was a fuckin’ mess. There was nowhere to sit. It’s still not the neatest, but…”

“Duck.” Indrid chuckled, pushing up his reflective red glasses. “You _have_ seen my living quarters before, have you not?”

“The ‘Bago? Yeah, ‘course.”

“You should know a little mess wouldn’t bother me, then.”

“Well, it woulda bugged me.” Duck scratched the back of his head, a bit sheepish. Indrid looked at him and he thought he was going to press a bit further, but at that moment Winnie waltzed up to Indrid, rubbing against his legs affectionately, and he was spared for now.

“Well, you must be Winnie.” He bent down and stroked along her back. Duck could hear her purring from a distance. He didn’t think he’d ever told Indrid about her, but he figured it must’ve been a future-vision thing.

“Don’t let her fool you with that cuddly act, she’s a little monster.”

“That’s something I can relate to,” Indrid mumbled, so softly Duck wasn’t quite certain he’d heard him correctly. Duck shuffled his feet awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat.

“You, ah, you ever played Mario Kart?”

Indrid laughed. “No, I haven’t.”

“ Would you like to? ”

“Yes, I think I would. But first, you might want to drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

Oh, hell. Duck had completely forgotten about that. “Shit, thanks ‘Drid.” He walked over to the kitchen, noticing that Indrid followed. “You want any?”

“If it’s still hot.”

“Sure thing.” He poured two mugs of coffee. It wasn’t piping hot anymore, but the coffee maker had a hot plate built into it, so it wasn’t cold, either. “Sorry, I take my coffee black, so I don’t really have any creamer, but  I could put some milk in yours if you want. ”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just take it however you take yours.” Indrid smiled at him, and, as always, it was just a bit too wide, but Duck had been around him enough at this point to not be put off by it.

“Alright. Well, here ya go. It’s still pretty hot.” Duck handed Indrid a warm mug.

Indrid accepted it. “Thank you. I must ask, where did you get this mug?”

Duck realized, suddenly and violently, that the mug he’d handed him was one that head “HORNY FOR TEAMWORK” and featured a crude drawing of himself dabbing. _Fuck._ “Oh, uh, Aubrey gave all of us--uh, those of us on the Pine Guard, that is, she gave us all those fuckin’ mugs for Candlenights. She made ‘em herself, and she was so proud of herself I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, and honestly yeah I think it’s kinda funny--”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, I think it’s funny, too.” He paused. “Do all of them have this picture?” He tapped the dabbing Duck.

“Nah, she drew each person dabbing on the mug she gave to them.”

“Shame.” Indrid took a long sip. “Duck, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“‘Course, Indrid. Shoot.” He took a sip of his coffee. Just the right temperature.

He paused. “Why did you invite me over today?”

Duck choked a bit on his drink. He hadn’t been expecting that question. What did he say? _I’m feeling depressed and lonely, and I just didn’t want to be alone? The people I normally hang out with are busy? You’re kinda an enigma and I wanted to try to figure you out? I think you’re cool as hell and I figured I should ask you to hang out as long as I was feeling brave enough to?_ “...I thought it was lame that I only ever call you when there’s a monster runnin’ loose. Just seemed shitty.” Not untrue.

It could have been his imagination, but Indrid almost seemed to deflate at that. “Ah, right.” A beat. Then, in an ubeat tone, he continued, “You know, Duck, you don’t need to feel bad about just calling when you need help. I’ve been told I’m...a lot, to deal with, or be around. I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t feel the need to befriend me out of guilt. I’m fine alone, and I know you have a lot on your plate.”

Duck set down his own mug--one with a minimalistic design of a duckling--and said, “I’m--shit, Indrid, I didn’t invite you over here outta pity. Sorry if I made it sound like that.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Duck.” Behind those reflective red lenses, Indrid was damn near impossible to read.

“I’ve been wanting to hang out with you for a while, actually.” He picked his mug back up. “You’re cool as hell. I just kinda figured you’d be busy, I dunno, soothsaying ‘n’ shit.”

Indrid snorted. “I am prone to doing that.”

Duck wasn’t really sure what else to say, so he just took another long drink of his coffee. “Uh. How about that Mario Kart?”

Indrid smiled, taking a sip from his own mug. “Let’s do it.”

• • •

The day slipped away from them a little bit, once they got playing. They didn’t stick with Mario Kart for very long; the randomness of the items seemed to frustrate Indrid, and as amusing as that admittedly was, Duck eventually suggested they try another game. They switched over to Call of Duty (splitscreen), which Indrid seemed to find more to his liking, likely because he kept racking up killstreaks the likes of which Duck had never seen before.

At one point, Duck glanced over and, seeing the small, mischievous grin on his companion’s face, asked, “How are you getting so many kills?”

Indrid bit his lip, chuckling to himself, lightly, “Well, technically, I think I may be cheating. I just know where people are going to be, so I can plan ahead in my play in a way other people just can’t.”

Duck laughed and shook his head. “And here I thought you were screen cheating.”

“I would never.” Indrid shot him a grin, glancing at Duck from the side. From this angle, Duck could see his vibrant red eyes. Looking at them made Duck feel like he was holding a live wire, but not in a painful way. He quickly shifted his gaze away, hoping Indrid hadn’t noticed how his face had darkened nearly enough to match his eyes and glasses.

At some point, Winnie claimed Indrid’s lap and refused to move, but he didn’t seem to mind. In between matches, and sometimes during, Duck could see him gently stroking her out of the corner of his eye. Something about that warmed his heart in a way he couldn’t quite put a name to.

They had so lost track of time that it wasn’t until Duck’s stomach began to growl that they realized how long they’d been playing. Duck glanced at his watch. “Well, shit. It’s almost seven. How’d it even get that late?”

“Well, I’ve heard that time flies when you’re having fun.” Indrid set down his controller, being careful not to disturb Winnie.

“Yeah,” Duck said softly. “That was real fun. Thanks for indulgin’ me, I’m sure you’ve got a bunch goin’ on.”

“Thanks for having me.” Indrid intently smiled his too-wide smile at Duck, and the two just sat in silence, smiling at each other, for a moment before Duck realized that “thank you” was usually something that one responded to.

“Uh, you’re welcome. Are y’hungry?” He stood up rather quickly, walking towards the kitchen before Indrid could even respond.

“I could eat.” Indrid didn’t move to follow, as he was trapped by a fluffy, good girl.

“Fuck yeah, you ‘could eat.’ Shit, I’m a terrible host, you haven’t even eaten today. Fuck. Uh, lemme see what I’ve got here.”

“You’re not a terrible host, Duck, I’m fine, really.”

“Like hell you’re fine, you’re fuckin starving to death.” He poked around in the cabinets (carefully avoiding Beacon’s cabinet) and the fridge, and was horribly disappointed by what he saw. “Well shit. I think I have uh--some mac and cheese, here, and some, uh, fuckin’, hot dogs? Shit, that’s a kid’s meal, uh, if you want I can order in somethin’.”

“No, that sounds fine, Duck.”

Duck glared in the direction of the couch, an eyebrow raised. “Are you  _sure_ _?_ ”

He heard a faint laugh. “Yes, Duck, that sounds great.”

Duck squinted at the back of Indrid’s head for a moment before he sighed and went about prepping the kids’ meal. “If you’re sure.”

As he was boiling the pasta, he felt Winnie rub up against his legs, startling him into jerking his ladle up and getting macaroni on the stove. “Shit!” He heard a faint snicker from behind him, and turned around to see Indrid leaning against the counter.

“Sorry, I thought about warning you,” Indrid said through giggles, “but the sudden presence of my voice would’ve had the same effect.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Duck felt himself blushing from embarrassment. “I’m not usually so easy to startle.”

“Of course.” Indrid’s smile was ever-present.

“Have you been there this whole time?”

“Not this _whole_ time.”

Duck chuckled to himself and cleaned up the stove with a quick grab with a paper towel. “It’s, uh, it’s almost done.”

“Great.” A beat. “Thanks for making dinner, by the way.”

“Of course. Sorry for not thinking to make something sooner--I forgot you hadn’t eaten.” He drained the pot, then added in the flavor packet and the chopped hot dogs. “You know, you shoulda said something sooner if you were hungry.”

“Like I said, I was fine.” Duck looked at Indrid, but as usual, he was hard to read with those damn glasses on. He turned back to the pot and stirred it one last time.

“Well, either way, I think it’s done. Lemme just…” He turned to grab some bowls from the cabinet, only to see that Indrid was already holding two. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Thank _you_ for cooking.”

“‘Course. How much do you want?”

“However much is left over, I’m fine.”

Duck looked at him suspiciously for a moment before dishing a large serving and handing the bowl to Indrid. _Man’s gonna fuckin’ starve himself if I don’t intervene_.

“Thanks, Duck.” He leaned against the counter and began eating (apparently he’d grabbed spoons, too--there was another sitting beside him on the counter.) Duck dished up his own bowl and leaned against the counter beside him. They ate together in companionable silence for a moment before Duck spoke.

“Thanks for comin’ over today.”

“It was my genuine pleasure, Duck.” Indrid took a bite. “Do you feel better?”

Duck’s hand stilled. “What’s that?”

“Oh, ah--there were a few different moments when you almost told me that you were having a rough time of things, weren’t there?”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. There were.” Duck stirred his bowl for a moment.

After a moment of silence, Indrid said, nervously, “Sorry if that wasn’t something you wanted to talk about, I simply thought it would be good to--”

“No worries, ‘Drid.” He continued stirring for a moment. “That’s, uh, that’s not why you came over today, is it?”

“No, it’s not. I was...well, I was lonely, too.” Indrid looked down into his bowl, and for a moment Duck was able to see his eyes, sad in a way that didn’t match his smile, before a lock of wild white hair fell in the way, blocking Duck’s view. He took another bite to give his hands something to do besides tucking that lock behind Indrid’s ear. That would be...inappropriate.

The two ate in silence for another moment. Then, Duck cleared his throat. “I do feel quite a bit better, actually.” A beat. “Do you?”

Indrid turned to him, tucking that lock of hair behind his ear and smiling a bit more softly. “I do.”

Duck smiled, distantly aware of his face heating up. He took another bite of his mac ‘n’ cheese ‘n’ dogs, and said, “Cool.”


	2. Chapter Two: The One Where The Author Has To Remove The "Slow Burn" Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck and Indrid go on a walk. Indrid shows Duck an amusing potential futures, and one that's...well, "amusing" isn't the right word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school work stresses me out so this chapter is fluffy as shit lmao

Things had...changed, since the first time Duck had invited Indrid over just to hang out. Almost immediately, the seer had begun calling Duck _much_ more frequently. The first time he’d made a social call (it had rung just as Duck was arriving home from his shift at the station), Duck actually hadn’t reacted very well.

“Duck, I’m only calling to--”

“What’s goin’ on, Indrid? Who’s in trouble?”

“Well, actually--”

“Shit, I gotta grab Beacon--”

“ _Duck,_ no one’s in danger.”

At that, Duck had stilled. “Then what’s goin’ on?”

“I’m just, how did you phrase this, paying a social call?”

“Oh. You just wanna, like. Hang?”

Indrid had laughed--a breathy, toneless thing that sent a chill down Duck’s spine. “That would be great.”

He’d reacted a bit better the next time, and still better yet the time after that. They usually just talked on the phone--Indrid seemed to get a bit paranoid about getting out in public unnecessarily, but today, Duck had managed to convince Indrid to come out on a walk with him. That’s why he was standing near the entrance to one of the main trails, holding a coffee, an eggnog, and about four flannels. He looked around for his friend, absently going to take a sip of his coffee, when he heard--

“Careful, that one’s the eggnog.”

Barely resisting the urge to jump at Indrid’s sudden presence, Duck turns to face him.

“Y’know, y’coulda made me spill these drinks everywhere.”

“There was a smaller chance of that happening than you might expect.” Indrid grinned, reaching out to take the eggnog from Duck’s hand. Duck noted that, although the spring weather was pleasant enough for him to go out without any layers, it wasn’t nearly warm enough for Indrid to be dressed as scantily as he was--a light hoodie, presumably with his signature tank top underneath. As always, his sketchbook was tucked under one arm.

“‘Drid, you’ll catch your death, dressed for a heatwave like that,” Duck said, hoping his joking tone would lighten his concern.

Indrid merely began putting on the flannels that Duck had draped over his arm. “I knew you’d have it handled.”

“But, ‘Drid--”

“The worst-case scenario was that you left them in your car and we had to walk back to get them.” He gave a smiler that was a bit softer than his usual. “There was no reality in which you didn’t think about what I was going to need.”

Something in the pit of Duck’s stomach melted at that, and he was certain that his face was pinker than usual. Hopefully Indrid wouldn’t be able to tell through his rose-colored lenses. He cleared his throat. “Uh, d’ya wanna get, uh...walkin’?”

“No.”

Duck froze.

“I’m just kidding, Duck.” Indrid giggled. (He _giggled.)_ “I wouldn’t have come out here if I didn’t want to go on a walk with you, would I?”

“That’s fair.” Duck took a sip of his coffee. If he wasn’t red before, he was now. “Shall we, then?”

Indrid nodded, and the two of them began walking through the trees. Duck occasionally stole a glance at the taller man. He looked admittedly really goofy, wearing four clashing flannels (all of which were _much_ too big for his lanky form) over a hoodie, but the sunlight filtering through the trees reflected off his hair beautifully, and he could see the forest reflected in red through his glasses, and his smile was so charming, and-- _oh._

Indrid was grinning at Duck, having 110% just caught him staring.

“See something you like?”

Duck transcended embarrassed and found new and exciting emotions he’d never known existed. He cleared his throat three consecutive times, and, smoothly, said, “I, uh, well, I’m--uh, fuck. I just--shit. I’m, I like….trees?” He made a face that could best be described as “constipated” and studied Indrid’s face for judgement, but Indrid just laughed.

“Oh, my foresight must be broken--I had _no idea_ you liked _trees_ .” He _bit his lip_ in amusement and Duck thought he was going to explode.

“Well, I, uh, I’m a man of many mysteries,” Duck said before two things happened at once: 1. Indrid grabbed his hand, and 2. Duck promptly stumbled over a root that had grown into the path. He nearly lost his balance altogether, but Indrid caught him, grabbing his arm with his other hand and steadying him.

“Careful there, mystery man,” Indrid lilted.

“Uh, thanks.” Duck smiled self-consciously. “You saved me.”

“I figure I owe you one.” Duck couldn’t help but note that, although he let go of his arm, Indrid didn’t drop his hand. He tried not to read too much into it.

(He didn’t drop Indrid’s hand, either.)

After maybe too long of a pause, Duck finally responded, “You don’t owe me nothin’.” He gathered all his courage and managed to lightly rub his thumb over the back of Indrid’s hand. He cleared his throat again, pointing towards a flash of red he could see in the trees ahead. “Uh, oh, hey, look at that, it’s a, uh, it’s a cardinal. You know that’s the state bird?”

“Yes, it’s quite a beautiful specimen.” Duck glanced over to see his reaction, but Indrid was looking at him. He was all too aware of the weight of the sylph’s hand in his own. Normally, the two of them were just fine with quiet; it just felt companionable. Right now, though, he felt desperate to break the silence. As he searched his mind for something else to say, his eyes flitted over to the sketchbook tucked under Indrid’s arm.

“D’ya, um, ever draw anything aside from yer future visions?”

Indrid looked away from him, granting Duck a look at his eyes from the side. He seemed pensieve. “Not really, no.” He paused, a small smirk growing. “Although, I do sometimes draw...unlikely futures. That’s about as close as I get to drawing ‘for fun,’ I’m afraid.”

“Unlikely futures?” Duck carefully stepped over another tree root, noticing that Indrid held his hand a bit tighter. “Like what?”

Indrid thought for a moment before dropping Duck’s hand (which Duck definitely did not pout about, thank you very much) and opening his sketchbook. He flipped through the pages, angling them away so that Duck couldn’t see them without obviously craning his neck. “I don’t usually tear out the ones that aren’t likely to happen. I think I can just...show you...ah, here we are.” He turned the page to show Duck what he’d drawn, and the Chosen One’s eloquent response was wheezing laughter.

“Is that…?” Duck couldn’t even make it through his sentence.

“Barclay and Stern, yes.” Indrid was clearly trying to remain deadpan, but Duck’s laughter was contagious and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t see, uh, I don’t…” Duck tries to collect himself. “Where’s Stern’s, uh, fuckin…”

“His clothes?”

“Yeah.” More laughter. “Those.”

Indrid hummed contemplatively. “The floor, I’d imagine.”

Duck cackled. “How likely is this?”

“More likely than you’d expect.” Indrid looked at the page with a smirk. “Still an outlier, though. It doesn’t go on the wall.”

“Shit, Drid. You got others like this?”

“Let me see, I believe so.” As Indrid flipped through the sketchbook, this time he didn’t turn the pages away from Duck, so he could see a lot of pictures that kind of looked like…

“Hey, uh. Indrid?” Duck had stopped laughing, but his blush was coming back.

“Hmm?”

“A couple of those pictures, uh. I can’t be sure, so correct me if I’m wrong, but…”

Indrid froze beside him, holding the sketchbook close to his chest, hiding the pictures from view.

“...they kinda look like, well. Us.”

Upon seeing how visibly tense Indrid became at this, Duck instantly regretted saying anything.

“Uh, nevermind, just, uh, forget about it. We should probably--”

“Duck.”

He gulped. “Uh, yeah, ‘Drid?”

“...Why do you stare at me the way that you do?” Indrid didn’t look at him, and his hair fell in the way of his face so that Duck couldn’t really get a read on his facial expression.

“Uh...how do you mean?” He scratched the back of his head self-consciously.

“When you think I’m not looking, I can see you just...staring, at me.” Indrid took a deep breath. “I’m not a mind reader. I...I have a tough time, reading people. I don’t know why you look at me that way, but it makes me think…” He sighed, turning his head even further away from Duck. “Nevermind. The more I talk, the less likely it is that our...friendship, survives this conversation.”

Duck licked his lips, gathering his courage. “I, uh. I stare at ya because...well, I think you’re beautiful, ‘Drid.” Indrid didn’t respond, and he’d probably horribly misread this situation, but he was already in it now so he figured he might as well commit. “You’re just fuckin’ incredible, and I love t’spend time with ya. I...I don’t know what futures you’re seein’, but I’d never let your friendship go without a helluva fight. Especially over somethin’ as silly as an awkward conversation.”

Indrid chuckled, looking in his direction once more. “This is just awkward?”

Duck smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. “Yeah. Nothin’ wrong with that, now, is there?”

Indrid seemed to study him for a moment before flipping to a page in his sketchbook (he seemed to be able to find it almost without thinking about it) and showing it to him. It was a picture of the two of them snuggling under the covers on Duck’s couch. Duck was kissing along Indrid’s jawbone, and the sylph seemed to be mid-laugh, fixing his glasses, which were askew. Through the window, Duck could see snow.

“Indrid, this is…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Are you comfortable with this? I’m sorry, I really should’ve asked before just showing it to you.”

Duck laughed softly. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it. More’n comfortable, I’d say.”

At that, Indrid seemed to relax. “I made this while you were cooking for us, that first day we hung out in your apartment. You reaching out to me...well, it opened up all these _futures_.” He laughed. “You know, there was a very small chance that we hooked up that very first day?”

Duck blushed violently. “Oh, y’don’t say?”

“I’m glad that didn’t happen.” Upon Duck’s confused silence, he elaborated, “Neither one of us are very good at separating the physical from the emotional, I think, but one or both of us would have tried to do just that if we’d done it that early.”

Duck wished he could see Indrid’s eyes. He was so damn hard to read with those glasses on. “Well then, I’m glad we didn’t, too. I’d hate for somethin’ shitty to come between us.”

Indrid smiled a bit, and, as if he _was_ a mind reader, pushed his glasses up so he was wearing them almost like a headband.

Duck nearly fainted.

Indrid’s _eyes_ \-- they were _stunning_. Breathtaking, even. They were passable as brown, but they had just enough of a red hue to be markedly different, and there were these little flecks of gold throughout them. Duck wanted to stare into them forever, but there were slightly more pressing matters at hand; namely, Indrid had stepped closer, so if Duck stood on his tiptoes a little the two would be nearly nose-to-nose. Actually…that wasn’t a bad idea.

Duck stood on his tiptoes just enough to be level with Indrid, and asked, “Can I kiss ya, ‘Drid?”

His answer was Indrid’s chapped lips meeting his own. Duck unthinkingly dropped his cup as he leaned into the kiss, weaving his fingers through Indrid’s silky hair with one hand and pulling him flush against himself with the other. Indrid, in turn, smiled into the kiss, making a noise at the back of his throat that Duck didn’t have the words to describe but made heat pool in his stomach. As the two of them kissed with increasing fervor and reverence, a cardinal flew overhead, whistling as it disappeared into the beautiful spring morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind comments! I have some actual Plot that I plan to try to bring in, alongside the domestic fluff lol. I'm currently taking requests, so if you have any, leave them in the comments!  
> If you liked this, please leave kudos and comment to water my crops and cure my depression

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'll try to update as soon as I can. If you liked this, please comment and give kudos! It feeds my ego and my desire to write :')


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